"Well, doing that takes finding some work! And with your skills, I'm sure you'd be absolutely brilliant at bringing people love and happiness in the hospital. So is that what you'd be doing, miss?"

"I w..."

"If I must."

"Don't be so dour! The money's plenty good for living like this, you'll never have a customer touch you without your consent, and you'll be able to meet lots of great people! Just look at me, mylady."

"I am not a lady. Cannot be one, certainly not after having been used."

"Well, I'm not a lady either. But what's so wrong with being, ahh, used? You're still yourself, right?"

"There is nothing wrong. The strong takes the weak, that's just how it goes. I just... don't enjoy it."

"And if you had guards there to stop anyone doing something you don't want to you? Then that wouldn't be how things go, would it? You'd do the things that other people want you to, so much that they'd have to give you something back. That's how things are different in thomassia. Everyone has guards keeping them and their things safe."

"I just don't... enjoy bed work. Never had. But it's not as if I can choose. I am pretty, and young, and a slave, so if my master tells me to kneel... I kneel. And after a while you get good at pleasuring men.

And I guess that if there are guards protecting me it's less bad, but that wouldn't make it enjoyable, just safer."

"Ohh, so then you'd just be doing singing? Bed work is far from the only thing you could be doing. What if you wanted to care for someone else's kids? Or help make food like you just had? Or show people around beautiful parks and mountains? Or sing to people? There are endless opportunities if you just put in the effort!"

"Those all sound... peaceful. I think I wouldn't hate it."

"Thomassia is a very peaceful place! Remember what I asked, about how you'd feed yourself and pay for shelter if I never gave you another command? You said you'd do whatever it takes. Well, wouldn't you prefer doing something you enjoy? So, what would that thing you enjoy, be?"

"I think I would like to sing. And show people around beautiful places. And possibly cook or take care of children, but I've never done it so I don't know if I would enjoy it."

"Well, sounds like your only option would be trying them and finding out! Want to see thomassia yourself, and do that?"

"I... guess I can try."

Cynthia opens the door leading into the condo. "Well, thomassia is through here, so could you please follow me?" She opens a door to the fountain at the downtown of her favorite winter resort, where the biting cold strikes her in just seconds. "Brr!" She shivers for a few seconds before running over to one of the IR radiators surrounding ground floor of the tall buildings in a circle around around the fountain, spreading heat all over her body to keep her comfortable in her decidedly non-wintery clothes. "It's warm here!" she shouts at Zenobia.

She follows. The cold is really intense, and her clothing is not protecting her at all, but when she gets close to her new master the foreigner, she feels suddenly warm.

"Yeah, you need to get clothes, quick. I'll buy you some winter clothes; come follow me. Stay close to the walls of the buildings, they'll keep you warm." Cynthia starts walking, before finally finding her way to her favorite winter clothing tailor: a tiny woman, with a nice, 2-story boutique full of thick, heavily-padded snowsuits in all colors and sizes. She opens the door, and waves at her.

"I don't think I can afford any of these clothes, it would take me years of pay to get the cheapest of them."

"That's where you're wrong, girl. It'd take you several full days, sure. But years? Not remotely. I'll buy you one, just so you can get started. But you'd need it tailored for you, first." 

"As you wish."

"Well, you can't get that done with that iron thing around your neck. How did that thing even get put on? We have to get it off, now."

"... you truly don't know? Oh.

It's my slave collar. It tells people that I'm property, and can be used to restrain me.

Did you think I was a free person?"

"Well, I realized. But you're not a slave and not property. You are a free person, and I don't think free people should have those. So, starting from today, you'll never have that around your neck again. Mercury, can you find some way of getting that thing off?"

... just like that?

Being free.

She has been a slave since that winter. The winder her dad didn't come back home.

And now she would be free. And have money. And no one would force her into bed again.

It's hard to believe but... these people have incredible magic, they're probably rich enough that they don't even need slaves, but can just pay people to work for them.

She starts to hum a lullaby to herself, the one her mother used to sing them.

She is crying.

Cynthia rushes to hug and comfort Zenobia, with her practiced ease. She gently coaxes her to relax her muscles and almost lie down, letting her bawl out all her tears between Cynthia's warm, comforting arms. She ever so gently strokes Zenobia's hair and pats her head in silence.